


Distant Shores

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: Through the Mists of Time [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Culture Shock, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Historical References, Light Angst, M/M, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: I'm floored by the positive feedback to my cheesy little fic about a sappy time traveller and his highlander boyfriend. As a thank you and because I fell in love with this verse, have a glimpse into Dean and Cas' lifes after their reunion.A timestamp forThrough the Mists of Timewhich you should read first.





	Distant Shores

The night before the battle is eerily quiet. The exhausted men around him toss and turn, and the fog that creeps around the hills swallows the hushed voices and the rustling of the trees. Cas’ eyes burn from fatigue and having looked at maps and letters by the light of a single torch all night. He closes them, only to find his vision filled with memories of green eyes and a soft mouth forming promises and words of affection. 

Dean’s always only a thought away and the smallest things remind Cas of his loss. 

Cas sighs. He opens his eyes again and wipes the back of his hand angrily over his face. His clothes are heavy with moisture and he stinks of too many days without a proper bath, of staying too close to a hundred starving, grimy highlanders. His beard itches and he can feel the dark patches under his nails. 

_ I might die today _ , he thinks, and the thought doesn’t hold the same dread it did before. 

He said goodbye to his brothers before they lay down for a short night. They’ve done that on the evening before the battle since the first time they rode out together. They never know if they will see each other again. Michael’s brows drew together in suspicion though when Cas embraced him and clapped him on the shoulder with more intensity than usual, but he let it go, just like Gabriel.

Cas does feel sorry that he’ll have to leave them, but the hollowness of his heart numbs the pain, as if the part Dean took with him left a hole where strong emotions can no longer take hold. 

The last four weeks passed in single-minded determination. He did his best to prepare his men for the fight, form alliances, convince undecided clan chiefs to join them. From dawn until dusk, Cas poured his energy into diplomacy and the training of his men. He did everything he could for their safety and the future of his clan. Every night, he fell into a dreamless sleep. Every morning he rose from his blanket without giving himself a second to think or to remember. 

Four weeks. 

He can still taste the salt of Dean’s skin on his tongue. 

 

+++

 

Balthazar moves behind his back and presses his shoulder blade against Cas’ whenever he lifts his sword. They’re both grunting with every blow and clash of the heavy blades. Sweat and blood is running down Cas’ face, drying and welling up again in an endless circle, salt and copper. The dark earth beneath his feet is wet with dew and rain and the life of the English soldiers he’s cut down like wheat in the last hours. 

Back to back, Balthazar and Cas slash and cut and kill. They’ve fought like this since they were kids, and Cas knows he can’t give up now because it would mean his body wouldn’t shield his clansman anymore. 

A young blond soldier runs into his blade and looks down at the metal piercing his stomach with something like awe. Cas lifts his boot to push and get his sword free before the next enemy is on him. He clenches his teeth and straightens. 

The chaos that always breaks out in the first hour of a battle has long given way to the brutal business of seasoned warriors slaughtering each other. It’s hard work. Small groups of men are cluttered over the battlefield, and from a distance, they might look like they’re dancing. Heavy grunts and groans and shouts and whimpers fill the suffocatingly moist air, just like the metallic tang of blood and the stench of intestines spilling out of sliced bellies. 

Cas is tired. His right shoulder burns with every move of his sword. His head is thumping with every beat of his heart. Between one opponent and the next, he lets his eyes wander briefly to the west. The English commanders are lined up on the far side of the field, overlooking the slaughter with bored eyes. A hand rises and leads to shouts all over the battle ground. “Retreat,” a man to Cas’ right sighs, and their eyes meet over the carnage. Cas lowers his sword and nods. 

It’s over. 

The late afternoon sun transforms the scene into an image from a fever dream, and Cas lifts his gaze above the lifeless corpses and the dying men to look straight into the blazing sky. He breathes through his mouth but the stench creeps into his nostrils anyway. Balthazar pats his back and leaves to assemble their surviving men. 

Cas doesn’t move. He looks down again at his right hand, filthy with blood and mud, and the ring Dean gave him. He lets his sword drop to the ground and wipes his hand to bring back the shine on the silver band. 

It’s time to go. 

 

+++

 

The small bag contains everything he’ll need. A few coins, a wooden crest with the emblem of his clan, a dagger and the sachet Rowena gave him. 

Cas went to see the witch a week ago, without telling his brothers where he was going and why. The idea had formed in his head as soon as he had learned where Dean came from, and it had grown roots in his mind and become a solid truth when Dean had vanished and Cas had felt like an important part of himself had gone with him. 

This world didn’t have much to offer him, he mused. A few more years of fighting, lonely nights and empty days, and then a death from a blade or sickness. He never felt as if he really belonged, not the way he had felt right and alive in Dean’s arms. So he made a pact with himself: if he survived the battle, he would follow Dean. Today he had faced a well-trained army four times bigger than his own. He can face a future he knows nothing about, too, he reasons. Dean’s time couldn’t be worse than standing knee-deep in dead bodies and fighting for one’s own life. 

Rowena hadn’t looked surprised when he showed up on her doorstep. A heavy bag with coins hung at his hip and her eyes found the tinkling bribe as soon as he had entered her small house. She had bargained hard and unrelenting, but Cas didn’t really care. All that had mattered to him was how he had held the bag with herbs in his hands at the end and Rowena cited the instructions. 

“Use it in the night of the full moon and think about the person you want to follow. You can’t focus on a place like the other one did. So think about him and the spell will do the rest.” She folded her tiny hands over the coins as Cas stood, an affectionate gesture that spoke of how much her independence meant to her. Witches did do well to hide their craft and look for powerful friends these days. Cas couldn’t fault her for her greediness.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, and made to go. 

The witch didn’t look up, but he could hear her low, “Good luck.” It almost sounded like she meant it.

Now he’s standing at the edge of a small cope and shoulders his belongings. The moon rises slowly through the trees, a pale and looming presence, and the shouting around him dies down. The men light fires all around and fall asleep on the spot. Tomorrow they will bury the dead. 

Cas looks back one more time and imagines his brothers around a fire with a bowl of hot porridge and a bottle of whisky between them. They will lead the clan well, he’s sure, and while he thinks they’ll miss him, they won’t be devastated. He’s sorry to leave Balthazar, but his friend will be alright, he always is. A few men stand in a circle near him and Cas debates if he should wait, but he’s tired now and every part of his body hurts and he yearns to see Dean’s face again – or nothing at all. 

He turns and walks into the clearing. The words for the spell come easy. They’re etched into his memory and it’s like he can hear Dean’s voice alongside his own. He fills his mind with images of him, his eyes, his hands, his lips. The herbs light up and catch fire and the world around him falls apart. 

 

+++

 

The door in front of him is painted a friendly blue. It’s framed by pots with flowers that look exhausted in the harsh sunlight. Cas figures the custom of knocking on doors to make oneself’s presence known can’t have changed that much over the centuries and raps his knuckles against the wood. 

He can hear rustling at the other side. Cas imagines he can hear Dean’s voice and his heart beats faster in his chest. And then the door opens and Cas’ knees go weak. He hadn’t even been sure this was the right time or the right place. So many things could have gone wrong, and Rowena reminded him that witchcraft can be fickle, but Cas had taken the chance anyway and gladly. Now Dean stands before him, face slack with surprise, and Cas’ heart stumbles behind his ribs and all he can see is Dean’s wide eyes before Dean sinks to the ground and Cas lets his own knees buckle too. 

“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” he says, like it’s all that matters in the grand scheme of things, and maybe it is, the words that haunted him at nights and crept into his every thought each day. 

_ I should have told him how I felt.  _

_ I should at least have told him.  _

The corners of Dean’s mouth curl up and the warmth of his smile reaches his eyes and Cas can read it there, how Dean knows exactly what Cas means and how he feels it too. 

Dean grabs his shirt and brings their faces close. Cas’ hands tremble as they frame Dean’s jaw and cheekbones as if he’s holding something fragile, and the air gets punched out of his chest when their lips finally meet. To breathe the same air, to feel the softness of his mouth and hear the small sounds of contentment again, is everything Cas wished for. It’s more than he dared hope to find when he made his reckless decision. Now Dean melts under his hands as Cas holds him and they kiss like they are starving.  

A sound makes Cas’ look up. A young woman with beautiful red hair stands behind Dean and clears her throat again. Her fists are clenched at her sides as her gaze wanders unsteady from Dean to Cas and back. 

“Charlie,” Dean says, but doesn’t turn, as if he can’t bear to leave Cas out of his sight for even a second. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but could you come back later?”

Charlie looks uncertain and she worries her bottom lip. Cas can see that she is shocked by the sight of him, and he understands. He cleaned up hastily when he came from the battlefield, but his clothes are still muddy and stained with blood, and there must be some nasty gashes on his face. He tries to school his expression to something trustworthy and unthreatening, but he’s not sure if it helps. He grabs Dean’s arm and stands. His legs are unsteady and his head spins, so he keeps his palm on Dean’s lower back. Dean stays close and presses his shoulder against Cas’ so Cas can feel the solid warmth of his body through the fabric. 

“This is some weird shit, Dean.” Charlie takes a deep breath. “But if you know him…” Her gaze finds Dean’s and whatever she sees there seems to placate her. She comes closer and touches Dean’s arm briefly. “I’ll be back tonight.” And with that she’s out of the blue door that closes softly behind her. 

Dean turns to him, smiling a little shyly and clearly still in shock. His eyes find the wounds on Cas’ face. “God, Cas, you look terrible. We gotta get that cleaned up.” He grabs Cas’ arm and tags him along through the room and a narrow hallway into a bright white room with tiles on the floor and the walls. While Cas’ eyes are still adjusting to the bright light over his head, Dean has already started to undress him. Dean once told him he reacts to a crisis with action, he needs to occupy his hands and feel like he can do something. Cas understands. He stayes unmoving as Dean opens the brooch on his shoulder to let the kilt fall down and pulls the hem of his stained shirt to lift it over Cas’ head. 

Cas steps out of his shoes without hesitation. Dean’s fingertips graze over the bruises on his hip and then he walks around Cas to inspect him for more wounds. Dean takes a sharp breath when he finds the gash on Cas’ back, but it’s not deep. When Dean completes the circle, he touches Cas’ face and his hands tremble ever so slightly. “You should shower and then I’ll see what we can do about the wounds.”

Dean indicates a small space divided from the rest of the room by another tiled wall and bends to turn a metal knob. Water flows from a contraption overhead and soon Cas can see it’s hot by the steam that quickly rises up. Dean pulls a bottle from a shelf. 

“This is soap. You can use it. I’ll be right back. Just getting you something to wear.” 

He passes Cas but turns around again, and the cool determination he’s shown in the last minutes slips. Dean leans in and presses his lips to Cas’ temple briefly. 

“I can’t believe you did this,” he mumbles, and Cas can he hear a tremor in his voice that tells him more than anything else that he made the right decision. Before he can say anything, Dean is gone, and Cas steps under the spray. 

When Dean gets back, Cas hasn’t moved in long minutes. The warm water cascades down his back and he feels like he’s never been this warm and clean in his whole life. He hasn’t even seen all the magical things Dean told him about yet, but he’s sure none of them will be as wonderful as this. The scent of spicy herbs and fruit lingers in the moist air around him after he’s scrubbed the grime and mud from his skin. Cas sighs, content. 

“You like it?” Dean comes into the room and brings folded clothes and a draft of cold air with him. 

“Yes,” Cas moans and closes his eyes again to lean back and let the water flow over his face. Through the rushing sound of the shower he can hear Dean chuckle. 

“Alright, but now you have to come out before you grow gills.”

Reluctantly, Cas turns the metal knobs to shut off the water and steps out onto the towel on the floor. Dean waits with a broader one outstretched and wraps Cas in it as he comes nearer. Cas stands still, and lets Dean dry his skin carefully before Dean makes him sit down on what Cas assumes is a toilet to have a look at his wounds. 

Cas flinches when Dean cleans the gashes on his back and on his cheeks with a pad that smells of strong alcohol and he chokes down his complaints that it’s unnecessary when Dean puts sticky gauze on them. Dean’s with him and he cares for him and that’s all that matters really. When Dean’s hands pause, Cas opens his eyes and finds him standing in front of him. Cas takes his hand into his palms and looks up. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before a yawn breaks free from somewhere deep inside his body and suddenly strain of the last week settles around his shoulders like an iron yoke. Dean jumps into action at once. 

“I brought you sweats and a t-shirt. Here, stand up, I’ll help you.” Dean dresses him with sure and steady hands and Cas should protest – he can take care of himself – but Dean seems to need this to bridge the silence and the sheer craziness of the situation. Cas can relate. His brain is too jumbled and exhausted to process any of it right now, and he had weeks to prepare for this moment. He takes comfort in the warmth and the softness of the clothes and follows Dean out of the room to another one with a wide bed that looks unbelievably plush and inviting. Cas falls down onto the mattress as soon as his knees hit the edge. Dean laughs again and it’s such a beautiful sound Cas has to smile too. 

_ I want to make him laugh more often _ , he thinks, before he drifts into a dreamless sleep. 

 

+++

 

“That’s completely insane, Dean!” 

Cas wakes up to shouts from the next room. He’s out of the bed and searching for a weapon before his mind catches up. The morning sun is filtering through the window and lands on a bed and a table and a chair and a closet that are not familiar. Cas shakes his head. 

The battle. 

And then he did it. He travelled through time. 

Cas takes a deep breath and there it is, the scent of Dean underneath all the weird fragrances that permeate the air. It steadies him. 

Another voice speaks up, and it sounds like Dean, but it’s calm and quiet and Cas can’t make out what he says. He goes over to the door and opens it. 

“Look, I don’t know what to say, man. I know it’s crazy, but you have to believe me. And you have to believe me that he’s…” 

Dean stops when Cas enters the room and Cas chastises himself that he didn’t wait because he really wants to know what Dean would have said. Dean’s sitting at the other end of the room and a tall man stands between them. When Dean doesn’t say anything and smiles at Cas instead, the man turns with a threatening frown and takes a few steps closer to Cas. Instinct takes over and Cas opens his stance and balls his fists while his eyes try to stay on the man and flicker around the room to search for a possible weapon at the same time. He’s taller than Cas but he’s not well-balanced, as if he could rely on his height and his strength all his life and never had to learn to fight, and if Cas can reach the chair to his right, he’s sure he can incapacitate his opponent... 

“Sam.” Dean’s voice cuts through the tension. “Sam, you gotta take a step back. Now.” 

Sam blinks and steps back. 

“Go back and sit down,” Dean commands and then he’s in Cas’ space and puts a hand on his arm tentatively. Cas waits until Sam sits before he relaxes his stance and focuses on Dean who watches him with careful eyes. ”You okay?” Dean’s voice is soft and full of worry. 

“Yes,” Cas says, and clears his throat when he hears how hoarse he sounds. “Yes.”

And then he really looks at Dean and the last month comes rushing back in a wave that makes his chest go tight. Dean comes closer still and his hand slides down Cas’ arm in a caress while a small smile blooms on his lips. 

“Hi,” Dean says and the smile widens and lights up his whole face. Cas’ hands lift on their own, one to cradle Dean’s cheek and the other gripping his shirt to tug Dean to him and bring their faces close enough that he can feel Dean’s breath ghost over his lips. Their eyes meet, just a blur this close, and then Cas crashes his mouth to Dean’s, giving in to the sudden need boiling under his skin. Dean meets him every bit as desperate and seals their lips hard and bruising before licking deep into Cas’ mouth and sucking on his bottom lip. 

“Ew, gross”, the other man, Sam - it must be Dean’s brother - mumbles from his place on the other side of the room, but Cas couldn’t care less. He waited for the four longest weeks of his life to taste Dean again, to feel him in his arms and know that he’s alive and well. He crossed the boundaries of time itself for this, and as long Dean will have him, he won’t let go. 

Their frantic kiss gives way to softer brushes of lips over lips and after a while Cas reluctantly lets go and takes a step back. He strokes his thumb over Dean’s red bottom lip and ignores the want for more that sits like a burning ache in his stomach. For now. Dean’s sinful mouth forms the word  _ Later  _ when a cough sounds through the room. 

“So. Now that you made sure your tonsils are where they ought to be, can someone explain this to me? In simple words?” Sam’s jaw is clenched and his voice drips with acid. Cas can only imagine what’s going through his head right now. He’s glad Sam didn’t see him yesterday. 

Dean rakes his fingers through his short hair and sighs. “I’ll call Charlie. So we only have to tell the story once.” He fumbles a small black thing out of his pants and touches it with his index finger before lifting it to his ear. “Hey Bradbury. Yeah, he’s still here. Wanna come over?”

He turns to his brother. “She’s here in fifteen. I’ll make sandwiches. You two behave, okay?” 

Sam nods. 

Cas sits down on the nearest seat, hands loose on his thighs to show Dean that he won’t start another fight. Dean looks at him for a long moment and briefly pats his shoulder before he leaves. The tension in the room is still palpable and Cas feels out of his depth. 

If Sam doesn’t accept him here, if he convinces Dean that Cas has to go, what will he do then? In all those nights he spent thinking about this future, the thought that he wouldn’t be welcome hasn’t crossed his mind once. 

The only thing he knew down to the marrow of his bones was that Dean would be waiting for him. Which might have been a terrible mistake. Cas grips his knees tight enough to bruise while nauseating ideas unfold in his head. Maybe Dean has found another lover in the last weeks. Maybe all they had was borne of the excitement of being thrown into another time and had nothing to do with deeper feelings. Maybe there is no place for Cas in Dean’s life. 

His breathing gets shallow and cold sweat beads along his spine. He recognizes the sinking feeling in his stomach for what it is. Panic. He hasn’t felt it in a long time, not since his first battle, and a tiny part of his brain supplies the helpful explanation that he must be more afraid to lose Dean than to lose his life.  _ Breathe _ , Balthazar said when they waited for the opposing clansmen to charge,  _ it’ll pass if you breathe _ .

“Hey, you okay?” Sam leans forward but doesn’t stand up, clearly trying to not appear threatening lest Cas forgets himself and decides to kill him. 

Cas’ ears ring and he tries to loosen his clenched jaw to be able to speak. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, and thankfully that’s when Dean comes back with a large plate full of bread. 

“It’s mostly ham and some are PB&J.” Dean lowers the plate and Cas grabs a random sandwich. He’s not hungry but he knows he has to eat, so he bites into the bread. It doesn’t taste like anything he’s ever eaten, fruity and nutty and salty, and it’s delicious. He must have made a sound of appreciation because Dean looks at him with sparkling eyes and asks him if it’s good.

“Very,” Cas mumbles around another bite, and reaches out for second sandwich. 

They eat in silence until a bell rings and Sam opens the door to let Charlie in. She’s breathing heavily as if she ran here. Catching the burning curiosity in her eyes, Cas thinks she might have. She peels off her jacket and sits down next to Dean. 

“Soooo,” she crows, “I want to know everything. Who’s this good-looking guy and how did you meet a LARPer with such an amazing costume behind my back?” She shoves Dean playfully and he looks over to Cas, eyebrows raised in question. Cas nods and Dean takes a deep breath as if he wants to steel himself. 

“Okay.” Dean claps his hands in front of him and looks down. “Remember the ren fair last month and the witch I had words with?”

Dean dives into the tale of how he found himself in Cas’ room – Cas is grateful he leaves out the part where he was naked and they almost had sex – and he tells his rapt audience about how he found out he had been sent to another century and how they convinced Rowena to help him. 

Sam and Charlie watch Dean closely, but their eyes flick over to Cas a lot, mostly when Dean is obviously skipping things. There’s a crease between Sam’s eyebrows as if he hears a lot more than his brother is saying, and Charlie’s face goes soft whenever Dean says Cas’ name. 

Dean ends his tale and lifts his eyes to look at his brother. “So the mess I’ve been last month? He’s the reason.”

Sam holds Dean’s gaze for a long time before he finally speaks, voice careful and controlled. “I’m not sure I can believe all of this yet. But I believe you that you think it’s true. And I can see that he’s important to you.” 

Charlie doesn’t seem to have those qualms. She claps her hands excitedly and her eyes shine bright with wonder as she turns to look at Cas. “You’re really from the past? When were you born?”

“August 11 th , 1287,” Cas tells her, and Charlie gasps. 

“This is so awesome,” she whispers. Cas smiles. It’s going to be a long day. 

 

+++ 

 

The bedroom door finally falls shut behind them and Cas takes a deep breath. Dean is on him a second later, grabbing his waist and licking his lips open to push his tongue inside as if he’s staking a claim. “You’re here,” he whispers between licks and bites and Cas opens up under the onslaught and closes his eyes against the intoxicating blend of lust and love and happiness swirling through him. 

“I am,” he rasps and presses close to Dean, rakes his hands over him and finds the hem of his shirt to push it up. 

They undress in a tangle of limbs and clothes and then Cas pushes Dean onto the bed to feel Dean’s skin from head to toe and resume kissing him deep and hungry. There’s no finesse in the movement of their bodies, only the need to be close and with each other in any way possible. Dean’s hands are in Cas’ hair and tug, the sharp sting adding to the overwhelming pleasure of being near Dean again. Soft moans and breathy gasps fill the pauses between their kisses. Cas sinks his fingers into the skin on Dean’s hips to keep him still and thrust against the juncture of his thigh. 

“Cas,” Dean groans, and his cock is leaving trails of precome over Cas stomach as he bucks up to get some friction. It’s sweaty and messy and perfect. With their legs tangled and their hands gripping each other tight, there’s not much room for movement, but it’s enough to bring Cas close to his peak fast, and Dean seems to be right with him. 

Dean takes a harsh breath and then Cas can feel him spill between their bodies, can feel his cock kicking and his release hot on his skin. Cas buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and rocks his hips against him once, twice, and pleasure sizzles through his gut like lightning as he tumbles over the edge a moment later. 

Dean places a kiss to his temple and chuckles. “That escalated quickly.”

Cas hums, face still pressed against Dean’s neck, and he feels heavy and warm and incredibly content. “I have waited a month for this so I wouldn’t call it quick,” he grumbles and he’s rewarded with another laugh from Dean. Cas kisses the skin over Dean’s pulse. Then a thought occurs to him. “I guess we need to shower?” he asks with a hopeful note in his voice. 

Dean laughs and pats his back. “Sure, buddy, as soon as I can move again.”

 

+++

 

Charlie comes over the next day with a pink device and a pack of old books. She sets everything up at the table in the dining room and beckons Cas over. He had asked her if she knew anything about the years following his departure and if she could tell him about the fate of his clan and country. He hadn’t wanted to burden Dean with it and Charlie seemed delighted to do some research. 

Now he sits in front of the pink thing and stares in wonder as Charlie pulls up picture after picture on what she tells him is the “screen” of her “laptop”. There’s paintings of the battle of Bannockburn and of the celebrations after, engravings of Robert the Bruce, some of which look like the real person and a lot which don’t. 

“Did you know him?” Charlie asks with eager eyes. Cas nods and tells her about his king and how he united and seized Scotland seemingly with pure willpower. Charlie hangs on his lips as he recounts the events that lead up to the last battle, and he feels something loosening in his chest. He doesn’t have to give up his past, he can keep it alive in stories as long as anyone is willing to listen, and that gives him some kind of solace he didn’t know he needed. 

Charlie then tells him about the 700 years between his own time and now. He learns about the Scottish fight for independence and how the highlanders lost again and again. She shows him pictures of the castle his clan built 400 years ago. Tears prick at his eyes as he takes in the sight of the soft hills of his home and the strong walls that kept his people safe. 

“We better stop now.” Charlie gently pats his arm and shuts the laptop. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Cas nods and thanks her. He hadn’t anticipated the sharp pang of homesickness, but it’s there, and when Dean finds him later, tears are still running down his cheeks as he stares into the distance. Dean then decides to take him on a ride with his car, and Cas finds himself cry out with astonishment when the first deep rumble sounds from under him and the vehicle accelerates at Dean’s command. This world is full of wonders, and while Cas is a little overwhelmed most of the time, he feels like he can learn to live here if Dean is by his side.

 

+++

 

They topple unto the bed laughing. Cas’ left hand lands on the inside of Dean’s right thigh and he strokes along the soft hairs absentmindedly. Dean sighs and lies back on his arm. His erection has waned in the last minutes they spent talking and drying each other in the bathroom, but now Cas can see it filling out again, slowly, as he moves his palm over the sensitive skin at the juncture of Dean’s thigh. 

They never had the time for this lazy exploration before and Cas revels in the knowledge that he has all day to learn Dean’s body and find out what he likes. He leans forward to press a soft kiss next to Dean’s hardening cock and then rises on his haunches so he can reach more of the enticing freckled skin. He moves his palms and fingertips over Dean to find every dip and curve. He wants to memorize  which touch makes Dean hums low in his throat or moan around Cas’ name or hiss sharply as he’s caught off-guard. 

When he comes back to Dean’s thighs, there’s a small pool of precome glistening on Dean’s belly. Dean opens his legs wider as Cas’ hand slowly moves from his knee to his groin. 

“Hmmm,” Dean sighs. “I like your way of thinking.” 

Cas loves that Dean’s so expressive about what he wants and what he enjoys. When they met, he didn’t realize how much Dean talked while they had sex but now he’s acutely aware of it. It makes Cas feel safe to explore, and Cas’ curiosity builds with every new idea that crosses his mind.  

When Cas dips a tentative finger between Dean’s cheeks, Dean opens his eyes and sits up, grinning. “I just realized you don’t even know lube!” He turns and opens the top drawer of his night stand. “Prepare to be amazed!” He finds what he’s searching for and throws a small bottle at Cas. Cas opens the top to sniff the contains but it doesn’t have any recognizable smell. 

“It’s like grease but better,” Dean says with a wink. Cas drizzles some of it into his palm and dips his fingers into the clear substance. When Cas looks up again, Dean’s still smiling, sitting up with his legs opened wide around where Cas is kneeling. Cas spreads the liquid between his palms and brings one to Dean’s cock while he wraps the other one around himself and they both groan. 

“Shit, Cas, that’s not what I… nevermind.” Dean’s eyes fall shut and he sinks his teeth deep into his bottom lips when Cas twists his hand on Dean’s dick and teases the slit with his fingertip. Cas soon finds a rhythm for them both. The slick slide feels incredible. He wonders… Keeping his left hand tight around Dean, Cas lets his right one trail down between his legs and finds the smooth sensitive skin around his hole. 

Dean eyes fly open when Cas gasps, and widen when Dean takes in the view in front of him. “Jesus,” Dean breathes and Cas pushes his finger in, uttering a low moan. It feels odd, but good, and the lube eases the way much better than he imagined. 

“I tried it, once, after you left,” he whispers. “I wanted to feel what you felt that night.” His index finger is as deep as he can go so he starts moving it in and out. His left hand is no longer stroking Dean but balancing his upper body on the sheets. When he is accustomed to the stretch, he adds another finger. “I… ah… I never found…” He doesn’t finish. Dean comes closer and stops his hand. 

“Here, let me show you.” Dean’s voice is rough and strained. Cas lets his fingers slip out before he follows the small push Dean gives him and lies back. Dean fumbles for the bottle and coats his fingers with shaking hands. His chest is flushed and his breathing ragged and he looks positively debauched. Cas knows how much Dean loves to show him new things, new ways to experience pleasure, and his heart nearly bursts at the seams when he sees his own lust multiplied in Dean’s dark gaze. 

Cas opens his thighs and bends his right leg so he can set his foot firmly onto the mattress. Dean crawls over him to kiss him firmly while his hand trails between Cas’ legs and a finger nudges at his entrance. Time stands still for a long moment and their ragged breathing and the thunder of Cas’ heart is everything he hears.

Dean licks along his jaw, up to his ear and murmurs, “You probably couldn’t reach it alone. Relax, baby, let me make you feel good.” And with that, he slips his finger inside, deep, much deeper than Cas can reach himself, and Dean feels bigger somehow, more intense, and Cas tenses just slightly. Dean’s hand stills until Cas’s muscles loosen again, and then he starts moving slowly inside Cas, so careful that Cas wonders what the fuss is all about and wriggles his hips impatiently. 

Dean chuckles low and crooks his finger. 

A strangled noise breaks free from Cas’ chest as pure pleasure radiates from the spot Dean found. Cas fights to get enough air and grips Dean shoulder, and then Dean does it again. 

“There you go.” Dean nuzzles the side of Cas’ neck and starts moving his hand in earnest. Cas can only hold on as Dean adds another finger and stretches him so perfectly and finds that magical spot with precision again and again. Dean’s erection is thrusting against Cas’ hip and it’s only heightening the pleasure to know that Dean enjoys this, that he likes making Cas lose his mind. Cas moans helplessly, overwhelmed by the onslaught of Dean’s clever fingers. 

Soon heat is pooling in Cas’ stomach and the need to come burns like fire in his spine. He closes his hand around his cock, his palm still slick with the liquid and his own beading arousal. 

Dean’s hand moves faster now and he urges Cas on with whispered obscenities, as Cas strokes himself with a loose fist and his voice breaks around half-finished words. Dean ruts against his skin in time with the movement of their hands. His breath is hot on Cas’ neck and his fingers unrelenting. 

Without warning, a third finger breaches his hole and Cas feels every digit entering him. His body tenses around the space where he is stretched around Dean’s fingers, every sense narrowing down to that focal point of pleasure, and he shouts as the first wave of his climax hits and makes him clench and spasm. His release pulses out of him, over his fist and his stomach, and his vision blanks for long moments. 

Dean slips free his fingers and kisses Cas’ shoulder as Cas heaves deep breaths and comes down slowly. His limbs are heavy and he doesn’t think he can move anytime soon. A deep sense of blissful satisfaction settles in his bones and he’s still floating when he hears Dean moaning softly. The sound makes him turn his head, and he finds Dean stroking himself in languid movements. 

“Let me see you,” Cas says with a barely audible croak. 

Dean sits up next to him and leans over for a quick kiss before he straightens so Cas can watch him. And what a sight he is. Dean’s broad chest is shining with sweat and a beautiful flush is creeping up to his neck and his cheeks, setting off the enticing freckles. The tendons of his neck stand out as his movements speed up, a concentrated frown builds between his closed eyes, and his lips are softly parted. Dean’s hips snap up into his loose fist and Cas’ mouth waters thinking of how that cock feels inside his mouth and how it might feel thrusting into him, filling him up. 

Cas sees the pleasure rise in Dean’s body. Strong muscles constrict and move in ripples under heated skin. The wet sounds of Dean’s hand jerking his length fill the air. Dean’s getting closer, closer, chasing his release, and Cas holds his breath. 

And then, like a tree bending and finally breaking in the storm, the tension snaps. Dean’s hips rock forward and his voice cracks around a shout. Cas can only stare, mesmerized, as Dean’s cock pulses in his hand and releases thick spurts that land on Cas’ stomach and mix with the traces of his own climax. Cas' breath catches in the back of his throat at the unexpected realization that he loves this, loves to wear Dean’s pleasure on his skin. He reaches down to spread their combined come and his dick twitches in a futile attempt to harden again, so he tugs at it with his stained hand. 

When he looks up, Dean’s eyes are open and glazed over, focused on Cas’ fingers drawing patterns into the mess on his body. “God, Cas, you’ll be the death of me,” he mutters as he collapses next to Cas and grabs his face to kiss him roughly. 

“It’s not even noon,” Cas muses after Dean releases his mouth with a wet sound. “We have the whole day.”

 

_ +++ _

 

_ Five weeks later _

It’s Monday morning, four o’clock, and Cas wishes he’d be back on the battlefield. 

Nobody in their right mind gets up this early. Why on earth did he agree to take the job at the bakery Charlie that offered him? Just because it’s almost the only thing he knows anything about and he loves baking and nobody else would give him a job anyways? Okay, there might be some good reasons. Still, it’s an ungodly hour and he’s not ready to face the day yet.

He tugs the blanket over his head to keep out the noise of Dean’s phone, but it’s pulled from his grasp soon after. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean chirps. 

Cas wants to strangle him. Instead he sighs, defeated, and hoists his sleep-heavy body out of the comfortable bed into the cold night. 

He washes and brushes his teeth, and dresses as fast as he can. Dean’s still in his boxer briefs when Cas finds him in the kitchen. “Why are you up? You can sleep for another three hours before you have to get to work.” Cas is gruff and moody, but Dean only laughs. 

Dean takes the pot of fresh coffee to the small table under the window. “It’s your first day. Least I can do is make you breakfast.”

Cas catches his arm when Dean turns back to the stove and tugs him to him for a quick kiss. “Thank you.” 

Dean grins and starts frying bacon and whipping up eggs while Cas gets out plates and glasses and cutlery. They move as if they’ve been doing that for years in the small kitchen, and once again Cas is reminded that he did the right thing. Dean catches him staring. “What?”, he asks. 

“I love you,” Cas says. 

Dean turns off the stove and brings the pans to the table. “I love you, too. Now eat.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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